The Serpent's Secret (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #1)(7)

“Seriously?” Neel mused. “That’s the best meter he could come up with?”

The horses whinnied in fear and warning.

“Lal!” I screamed. The rakkhosh’s fingernails were inches from his head.

But just then, Prince Lal did something fairly high on the Richter scale of stupidity. He launched himself off a tree trunk, did an Olympic-level double back somersault in the air, and landed on the demon’s head, gripping its two horns like motorcycle handle bars.

“Me thinks, sirrah, you need to go on a diet!” Lal announced. He tried to stab the monster with his sword, but the rakkhosh’s thick skin stopped the blade from going in too far.

“This prince is like a little fly!” cried the demon, swatting at Lal. “Me thinks it’s time for him to die!”

“Aren’t you going to go help him?” I yelled at Neel. He just sat there in front of me, watching the spectacle.

“Aw shucks, he’s just showing off.” Neel reached into his pocket and scarfed down a couple more of Ma’s rasagollas.

I shrieked as the monster’s fist managed to connect with Lal’s head. The prince slumped forward, unconscious, and then began to slip off the rakkhosh’s neck. Only his red sash, which had gotten tangled up in one of the demon’s horns, saved him from crashing down to the ground. Prince Lalkamal hung upside down from the thrashing monster, his perfect face deathly still.

And then I don’t know what the heck got into me.

“Well, if you’re not going to help your brother, I will!” Pushing off Neel’s back, I slid from the dark horse and ran at the rakkhosh. Unfortunately, I only reached the monster’s waist. I grabbed Lal’s sword, which had fallen from his limp hands, and stabbed the hairy demon in the foot.

“Let him go, halitosis-head!”

Some instinct told me to plunge the sword into the soft spots between the demon’s toes. I was scared, but felt something else besides fear coursing through my veins. Something brave and strong and heady. Like I’d been fighting rakkhosh all my life instead of doing inventory on two-liter soda bottles and pine tree–shaped car deodorizers.

“Princess smells like yummy pickles!” the demon snarled. “Stop it! Stop it! Ooo, that tickles!”

I felt the monster grab my hood. “You best not rip my favorite sweatshirt, you drooling toad!” Sure enough, as the monster lifted me up, I heard the material start to tear.

I hung from the monster’s fingers ten feet above the ground. I kicked my legs, swinging my sword in a wild arc. Lal, still hanging unconscious, was suddenly very close.

“Here, horsey! Come catch your master!” I sliced through Lal’s tangled sash, freeing him. The unconscious prince plummeted toward the earth.

Luckily, the monster was too occupied with me to worry about Lal, and too shortsighted to see the winged horse that swooped up, catching him on its snow-white back.

“Good job, Snowy!” I could have sworn the horse smiled at me as it flew back toward where Neel and the black horse still stood at the far end of the lawn.

As the rakkhosh lifted me face-high, it was hard not to faint at the smell coming from its mouth. Holding my breath, I took aim at its teeny, bloodshot eye and stabbed the sword forward with all my might. Unfortunately, sword fighting wasn’t on the curriculum at Alexander Hamilton Middle School, and my aim wasn’t exactly perfect. I looked in horror as Lal’s weapon lodged itself right in the middle of the monster’s bulbous nose, resulting in yellow streams of rakkhosh snot streaming out of both nostrils.

“Barf!” I yelled as the monster’s sinuses drained all over me. “Neel, anytime now, some help would be awesome!”

If it was possible, the monster looked even more furious. “Princess mean, but she’ll be sweet! Princess meat is good to eat!”

I was done for—abandoned by my parents, covered in rakkhosh snot, and about to be eaten. This was the worst birthday ever!





The rakkhosh lowered me toward its toothy mouth.

Just then, something glinted by me with a swish. It grazed my arm and cheek before getting stuck upright between the demon’s lips. My right sleeve was sliced open. The side of my face felt on fire, and not because I was blushing. I realized what it was. Neel’s sword.

“Gaak!” The monster thrashed around, grabbing its mouth. In its confusion, it dropped me, and I fell toward the hard ground. If only my dad hadn’t savaged all signs of life from our lawn, I thought as I plummeted to my doom, maybe there would be something there to cushion my landing.

“Yagh!” I yelled, or something like it. “Yeek! Yegads!”

Somebody’s strong arm grabbed me around my waist. It was Neel, flying up on the back of his black steed. He threw me in front of him, swinging me over the horse like a sack of potatoes.

Now, if you’ve never flown on the back of a winged horse like that, I don’t recommend it. It’s not just the ungraceful butt-in-air aspect, it’s the mouthful of sweaty horsehair you get in the bargain. Technically, I guess Prince Neel swept me off my feet. Actually, it was the exact opposite of the gallant rescuing you read about in fairy tales.

There was an awful wailing and crashing, which I learned later (I was still doing a face-plant in the side of a horse at the time) was the rakkhosh—with one sword protruding from its nose, one trapped in its open mouth—flailing around. Finally, it tripped over a tree trunk and fell with a shaking crash to the ground.